Chapter Eleven #2
She was having a baby. They were having a baby, she and Constantine.
They were building their own family—a dream she had buried was finally coming true after all these years.
Had they conceived on that very evening at the greenhouse? Would he be as excited and awestruck as she was feeling just then?
With this new addition, could they continue to be happy in their marriage, even if love wasn’t a part of it?
Aliyah stood on the villa’s terrace, waiting for the chopper as the early-evening sky stretched above her. The sea, a vast blue expanse, shimmered under the fading light.
She had spent the day arranging furniture, unboxing Constantine’s books in the study, printing a couple of wedding pictures—she’d been nesting, she realized, only now—and finally preparing moussaka, his favorite meal.
The kitchen still held the lingering scent of it.
Her heart raced with anticipation, eager to share her news with Constantine.
She could hear the chopper before she saw it—the heavy thrum of the blades cutting through the air. The wind kicked up as it neared, tugging at her hair, the salty scent of the ocean filling her senses.
When the chopper finally touched down, she barely waited for the doors to open before she ran toward him.
The moment Constantine stepped out, she was there, throwing herself into his arms. His grunt of surprise was swallowed up by her eagerness as he staggered back, trying to steady himself against the force of her embrace.
She couldn’t help it—the news inside her was bubbling up, pressing against her ribs, and all she wanted was for him to know. To hold her. To make this feel even more real. To reassure her that he was happy too.
She buried her face in the hollow of his neck—loving the leather-and-pine smell of him—while his chest shook with laughter.
When she looked up, the devil was smirking, pulling her tighter as his arm slid around her. “I should go away more often if I’m going to be welcomed back like this,” he teased, the warmth of his breath against her ear making her shiver.
The chopper lifted off, disappearing into the distance.
It was just the two of them again, exactly how she wanted it, their world quiet except for the sound of their breaths, their connection palpable in the stillness.
She shivered at the raw hope that this tenuous connection would deepen into something meaningful—a friendship with a dose of love for their child.
Constantine’s frown was immediate. “Aliyah? Everything okay?”
Nodding, she pressed a kiss at the notch in his throat. His skin was warm, his broad shoulders solid beneath her touch, the familiar feel of his hard muscles beneath his shirt sending a flood of comfort through her.
She squeezed him tightly, arms like clinging vines around his tapered waist, her chest tightening with emotion as she fought to hold back the tears. Tuned into his every breath, there was no way she could miss what happened next.
Constantine’s middle jerked away from her. When she looked up, it was to find his face twisted into a pained grimace. It was so quick that she barely had time to process it before she was staring up at him, confused and frightened.
“Constantine?” Her voice wavered as she searched his eyes, but he didn’t respond immediately.
Instead, he pulled her closer, his hand gently pushing her toward his side, his expression carefully controlled.
Aliyah’s heart sank to her knees.
She moved in front of him, arresting his forward momentum, forcing him to meet her gaze. Her eyes flickered down to find the faint red stain on the left side of his shirt, just below his stomach.
Fear fisted her stomach, cold and heavy. “Is that blood?” she asked, her voice cracking. Her fingers were already pulling at his shirt, frantic as she tried to untuck it.
He tried to hold her back, his hands brushing over her arms. “Aliyah, listen to me,” he murmured in a soothing voice. “It’s not a big deal.”
But she couldn’t stop. Panic swelled in her chest as she finally managed to yank the shirt out of his trousers, her hands trembling. She undid the buttons from below, the fabric falling away as she exposed the wound on his side.
A large white dressing covered his stomach, but the wound on the left side had bled through. Her breath hitched in a hiccup as she stared at it, her mind scrambling. Her fingers hovered near the wound, knowing she would only make it worse. But she couldn’t not touch him.
She pressed her palm to his chest, eager for the thud of his heartbeat.
“What the hell happened? I spoke to you morning and evening, every day. You asked me a thousand questions about my small bout of sickness, you made Mrs. Katrakis spoon-feed me soup. Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt? How did this happen?”
“Aliyah,” Constantine said, his voice firm but soft, as though trying to calm her frantic energy. “It’s really not that bad, I swear.”
“Not that bad? That’s a deep cut, Constantine. It started bleeding because I slammed into you. What happened?”
“Aliyah—” he tried again but she was far too gone into her spiral.
“If you don’t tell me what happened exactly, I swear, Constantine, I’m walking out right now.” Tears poured down her cheeks but she was serious about her threat.
He nodded, his gaze searching hers. “It was after the meeting with Rose’s uncle.
The pub we had arranged to meet at wasn’t in the best location.
After he left, I stepped out, called my chauffeur and this kid came out of nowhere.
Attacked me with a knife. I couldn’t understand what he was saying but I think he wanted my watch. ”
Aliyah stared at the golden Rolex gleaming on his wrist, her palm still on his bare chest. “He didn’t take it,” she said, almost to herself.
Constantine thrust a hand through his disheveled hair. “No. I fought back and we ended up in a scuffle on the street and he slashed me. I don’t think he even meant to hurt me.”
“Did you report him?”
“He got away, looking more scared than I felt,” he said with a long sigh. “I called the chauffeur and went to get the wound dressed.”
“You’re a bloody CEO, Constantine. Why do you travel without security? What’s the point of all this if something had happened to you? Where would I be if you didn’t—”
Horrified at what she’d been about to say, Aliyah pressed her hand to her mouth and ran back down the stairs.
All the while, her heart whispered that it was too late.
She was right where she had been years ago—in love with him.
Only now, she had him—as a lover, a husband, a father to her unborn child—and yet, somehow, it felt even more hollow than not having him at all.
Suddenly, it was too much, this new surge of feelings, this vulnerability on top of all the expectations her pregnancy was already building up inside her. However hard she fought it.
She needed time to sit with her newfound love—so different in so many ways from the last time she’d loved him and yet somehow the same too, as if the foundation of her life would always be him. As if she was meant to make her way back to him.
She needed to compose herself, adjust her expectations—she couldn’t let her love become a liability—and do what was right for her growing family.
Just sharing the news of the pregnancy felt like exposing something deep and profound within her.
Because now, she had to pretend that she was happy with the little she had of him.